morpheus
by nimuelsa
Summary: she's spun of fantasies and magic. - naminé & kairi friendship


idk what this really is omg, like, jfc, this is like a thousand different things jammed in together and naminé is freakishly like gin in the last bit like _fuck_ god this is weird and idk

i really liked my descriptions bc they never really are replicated and just –

Naminé and Kairi discuss life.

Naminé knows that this is a dream. Dreams taste of stardust and feels like silk. Everything in dreams is softer and sweeter, every moment engrained with the sense of euphoria and bliss. Reality tastes like cool air that takes, feels like harsh edges and injustice. Everything in reality is linear and time is quantitative.

She revels in the precious starlight moments, and she, only she, is the true master-mistress here. In this world she's constructed a glorious ivory castle worthy of princesses trapped in eternal sleep, maids who've been downtrodden in life, warriors who want sleep and every walk of life in between.

Her dream is where others come, and their own dreams contribute to the stability of this magic land. She is no governor, or queen however, and she merely wanders about here, talking to others, tasting their memories in lateral sips.

While she may not be queen (she would be crushed under the responsibility) she is creator, and it allows her to create sugar-dusted golden worlds for them to explore, and smiles are compensation enough for Naminé.

One eve, a bedraggled girl treads in lightly. Her hair is like spun fire with coppery highlights and large amethyst eyes that remind Naminé of royalty, but a shade softer. Her skin is milky pale, as if sunshine had been sucked out of her very being, and freckles dust her nose. She is about Naminé's age and she welcomes all visitors.

She steps down the staircase and floats on a cloud over to her newest guest. Her expression is blasé, as if used to such sights in dreams. She guides the new girl over to a tea room and allows her to silently sip tea.

She doesn't need to wait long.

"I don't know what to do anymore." The girl says, tears like steel and watery light, voice tainted a suffocated green. Her hands are delicate, fingers unused to hard labour, tone childlike. Naminé's seen this sort and sent them on their way, heads clear and tangles, untangled.

"Mm." Naminé pours more tea. And so do the chit's problems. According to firedust, her friends are tangled up in between bromance and a romantic relationship, her parents are divorcing, her friend recently went into a coma, her online friends went _poof_ , and she didn't even know if her real life friends were her _real_ friends. Her sister went missing a month ago.

Naminé lets her simmer, and then the bubbling emotions froth before deflating.

"Your male friends will sort themselves out, all will be well for them two. You can't change your parent's actions, but you can control your reactions to it. You can hope for your friend's resurface, just hold her in your everyday thoughts. In times of strife do you find your real friends. You'll be fine. Chin up and weather through." Naminé isn't unsympathetic, but it's truly generic advice that she can offer. However, she brightens, infinitesimally.

It would be heartwarming, if it wasn't the fifth time firedust had come knocking. She forgot, so she went about the entrance where all first-time guests came. Naminé had no choice but to welcome them in.

Firedust, she calls the girl because names are hardly used, and she trills golden laughter that lingers in the air like soft silver notes of a piano when she says it. In turn, Firedust calls her Ivory, which is fitting because in this realm, her hair is moonlight-sheen and her eyes are brilliant blue.

Firedust, as it turns out, enjoys surfing and waltzing, and Naminé plays along, if only to appease the girl. Plus it's great fun. Firedust's words and tone of voice is like silken copper, spun out of resplendent rich reds and soft, riotous curling golds.

They play and then Naminé farewells, and Firedust promises to return.

It's a lie, but Naminé plays along, eyes friendly and hands clasped behind her back. She never remembers and rarely do visitors come twice with memory of their last visit.

i have no idea what i wrote but i think it's lowkey coolio and that naminé could totally do this bc memory witch or whatever she was officially labelled with ingame. also i basically am trash for naminé, my queen. i mean, seriously, she looks so fabulous. sora doesn't deserve this calypso-kh-version. i mean. srsly.


End file.
